


3,2,1. We came to...

by DisenchantedHalo (Morgawse)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Escape Plans, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex Magic, Sigils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/DisenchantedHalo
Summary: Ray is challenged by Frank to come up with a 'fun' way to pass their time in the New Jersey State Prison. Mikey thinks it ought to involve a way of them getting out, because none of them belong in there - right? Ray remembers that early on in his time with his cell-mates, Gerard told a story about using the energy of your orgasm to get what you want. What could be better than combining all three?





	3,2,1. We came to...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowhive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhive/gifts).



> Yes, I am back again with another Twitter inspired fic! Props go to Rylescoe for reminding us of Jedusaur's "In the Name of Spiritual Advancement" and Grant's invitation to all readers of his Invisibles series to a 'wankathon' to stop the comics from being cancelled (thank God they weren't)!
> 
> Anyway, somehow I found myself backed into a metaphorical corner - mainly by Shadowhive ;) - and agreeing to write something about a peer jerk-off circle. As Shadowhive is such an advocate of our beloved Ray Toro and moans about the lack of love shown to him, it seemed only right to have Ray at the centre of this fic and what was supposed to be a 2000 word porn without plot ended up as this 11.5k word mess with probably only one page of smut.
> 
> Watch out for tiny cameos from Bob and Fall Out Boy - too small to list them as characters, but way too important to the (woefully thin) plot not to mention them in dispatches.
> 
> I tried to edit this, so hopefully this is now grammar and typo free. Apologies if any squeaked through both my and Grammarly's eagle eyes.

“Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored!” Frank was hanging upside down off Mikey’s bunk.

Ray wondered if the tiny tattooed punk had a deathwish. He was certainly dicing with death by encroaching on Mikey Way’s territory, one half of Essex County’s most infamous armed bank robber duo.

“Are you begging for a slow, painful death?”

“No, just need something to do. Too much pent-up energy, Toro. Don’t tell me you’re perfectly happy sitting on your bunk doing nothing?”

No, Ray was not happy. Ray was pissed off. He didn’t belong here. It wasn’t like his little hobby of pump and run merited being locked up with this ADHD afflicted asshole whose idea of a good time was getting in fights outside dive bars and slashing people, nor the aforementioned armed robbers, the Way brothers. Ok, well maybe his habit was more professional than he liked to admit, given he had created a device that fooled gas pumps into thinking he was pre-authorizing his credit card and hadn’t paid for gas in over eighteen months, but three years in prison, honestly?

“I’m sure I can find a productive way to spend my days if I try hard enough.” Ray always liked to look on the bright side. He would admit that his current predicament was testing his usual sunny demeanour. However, there had to be some fun to be had.

“Let me in on the secret when you find it,” Frank retorted sourly as he righted himself and crouched down at the back of the bunk.

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to……”

Before Ray had finished speaking, there was a thud, some extremely loud cursing and then a very unmanly amount of squealing in pain.

“Ok, so you were going for maiming and disfigurement before death. Interesting strategy, although I think my deathwish theory is correct. Need a hand up from the floor?”

Ray swung his legs off his bunk, stood up, and held his hand out to Frank.

“I’m good! I’m good” Frank mumbled. Well, that’s what Ray thought it sounded like because Frank’s nose looked like it was broken and there was also blood dripping from his mouth which made his words indecipherable.

“Yeah, Iero, you sure look good. What’s your boyfriend going to say about this, eh?”

“Fuck you, Toro! Gerard is NOT my boyfriend. Now help me get up to my bunk, asshole.”

“Sure treats you like you are what with all that touchy-feely stuff and always trying to get you alone in the showers.”

“Doesn’t make him my boyfriend. Now you helping or what?”

Ray shook his head. His untamed curls were still bouncing as he helped Frank stand up and hoist himself onto his bunk. Ray then grabbed the nearest thing he could find which Frank could use to clean up before one of the COs, or worse Gerard saw him in his current bloodied state. Fuck there really had to be better ways to pass the time than nursemaiding his imbecile bunkmate.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
The following morning the four cellmates were sitting at breakfast all wishing that somehow the slop on their plates was actually edible.

Ray had spent the whole night pondering the question of how to alleviate the boredom without getting into trouble. He had needed something to focus on that was not the sound of one or both of the Ways jerking off all night and making little to no attempt to muffle their moans.

“I wanted to ask you guys a question,” Ray gestured at Gerard and Mikey with his plastic spoon. “I think that there must be something that is constructive to do and relieves rather than adds to the tedium of being locked up for 15+ hours a day? Frankie here doesn’t believe it’s possible but look what his attempts to entertain himself lead to!”

Mikey narrowed his eyes at Frank, “Yeah, just exactly how did you manage to do that to yourself because we know Princess Sunshine here didn’t beat your face in?”

Ray promised himself not to rise to the Princess Sunshine jibe. It was rather endearing if you chose to look at it that way.

Frank did not need words to tell Ray that he better not spill the beans; his expression said everything he needed it to. So, Ray stayed silent about Frank’s failed attempt to jump from Mikey’s bunk to his.

“One of the jackasses on Block D didn’t like the way I looked at them in the workshop. He looks worse.”

Ray stifled a snigger. The only reason Frank’s fabrication was even plausible was that the Ways had been out most of the day with their lawyer working on another appeal and did not know that Frank had only left their cell for food the entire day, even managing to worm his way out of his assigned job in the prison workshop.

Mikey quirked his eyebrow. He had seen Ray’s amusement and was not buying Frank’s story. “Hmm, so neither of you know why my bunk was messed up….”

Gerard placed a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “Let it go. My angel said he got a beat down from some asshole, so that’s what happened. Now, Ray, you were asking about boredom relievers.”

Ray was not expecting what came next; after all, the man in question was an armed bank robber for Christ’s sake!

“We could always see if we could get a Dungeons and Dragons set. You can waste hours playing that…”

“Ray asked for ‘constructive’ suggestions, Gee!” Mikey looked at his brother in despair. “Now if you ask me, constructive would be how in the hell we all get out of here, because, you know, none of us belongs here, right? We’re all innocent men, wrongly convicted by a harsh judicial system that prays on the underprivileged.”

Ray was not anticipating that little speech either. His mouth opened and closed without making any sound. Mikey was right; Ray did not belong in prison. But the Ways - they’d been caught red-handed with the sawn-off shotguns, masks, and plans of the Wells Fargo bank in South Orange, and Frank, well Frank was pleased to tell anyone who would listen just how many faces he had carved up.

“Dumbass!” Frank exclaimed. “I mean, I totally agree with you. I don’t belong here, heck, none of us should be here. However, I very much doubt our poofy-haired friend here meant something so illegal as an escape attempt. I think he was hoping to keep his head down, his nose clean, and get one of those time off for good behaviour early releases.”

Ray felt himself blush. How had Frank managed to nail it? Although...Ray began racking his brain. Mikey’s idea was tempting. If there was just some way to make it fool-proof? A way that ensured they would not get caught.

“Then, of course, I personally find it relaxing to read, draw and write comics….”

“That’s it! Gerard, you’re a freaking genius!”

Suddenly it had all slotted perfectly into place for Ray. Jacking off was fun if you were doing it and not being to forced to listen to someone else. Planning an escape was fun if you thought you would get away with it. Testing the theory of magic was fun; he had always wanted to know if it was true or bunkum. His idea combined them all into one or several glorious escapades - much like creating a live D&D game, just with more orgasmic power than dice power. Gerard’s nerdy side, his ability to spout endlessly about comics and their creators, and now apparently role-playing games, would come in handy too.

“Um...yeah...I know,” it was Gerard’s turn to become a fetching and rather blotchy shade of red. “But all I’ve offered so far is D&D, drawing and comics. Don’t see what’s so genius level thinking there?”

Mikey and Frank were equally staring at Ray as if he had lost his mind. In all honesty, he probably had, but that little thrill he got from designing the card to beat the gas preauthorization software, that fire was sparking in the pit of his belly again.

“But that’s it! Don’t you see? If you combine Mikey’s idea with D&D and comics, you get a way to get out of here using gaming and our superpowers.”

Even after Ray’s half-assed attempt to explain not one ounce of recognition flickered on the faces around him.

“You might want to stop attracting attention to yourself, Ray!” Mikey whispered, leaning across the table. “Bouncing up and down on your seat like that is bound to draw CO attention soon enough if no-one else decides to pick a fight this morning. I’d like to see you explain why a grown-ass man in the New Jersey State Prison looks like an overly excited puppy without giving anything away.”

“Oh, right, yes, yes.” Ray hadn’t noticed how his leg was jiggling and his torso twitching until Mikey had pointed it out. He took a couple of calming breaths and managed to sit still.

“Then maybe you’d like to try with that explanation again? Perhaps actually give us some detail this time?” Mikey deadpanned.

“Yeah,” Frank whined, “Can’t get our hopes up like that Dude about, well you know, but not say anything about the how? I mean, is it really possible?”

Gerard stepped in as the voice of reason.

“I’m as keen to hear the details as you two, but I doubt here is the right place. Even now our little Ray of Sunshine has calmed down, we all know that those assholes Allman & Howard like to wander around and listen in on conversations for the hell of it and look who’s on shift this morning.”

The other three scanned the room for what COs were lurking, trying not to make it obvious what they were doing. Gerard was right; the two vindictive COs were on duty.

“For fuck’s sake!” Gerard smacked his forehead with his hand. “Do you have one full brain cell between you? Don’t all look together! Geez.”

“Calm your tits, Way. No-one saw. You’re the idiot attracting attention now,” Frank hissed, as he stretched a leg out under the table to brush against Gerard’s.

Ray knew Gerard was right. This wasn’t the place to divulge the specifics. Besides if he talked about it to them later, he would have more time to hone the details, maybe even make it sound less risky than it was.

“I’ll tell you about after lockdown tonight.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ray’s chest was strangely tight. His right foot was tapping the ground. How to explain it? It was crazy. It could even sound kinky. It was a goddamn brilliant idea. He just had to get the others to love it as much as he did. Either they were all in, or it wasn’t going to work. There pressure Ray felt was intense under the eager gaze of his three cellmates who were all sitting across from him on Gerard’s bunk.

“Ok, Sunshine. Let’s hear it.” Mikey broke the silence

“It better be good, there are so many other things I could be doing,” Frank wagged his finger at Ray and then stuck his tongue out at him for good measure.

Ray rolled his eyes. Frank playing the fool alleviated some of the tension Ray felt. The cell was locked, the four of them were stuck in there together until the morning. What were all these other things Frank was being prevented from doing? After all, it had been his declaration of boredom that had started Ray off down the path of finding something engaging to do.

“Not sure where to start, I guess?” Ray shrugged as he spoke.

“D&D?”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Gerard. As good a place as any.” Ray stopped for a second to order his thoughts.”

“So, you know how some people play that at a table, but others like take it out….”

“Live action role play – yeah?” Gerard sounded dubious

“What I was thinking was we could maybe create our very own quest. Not so much an action role play, but certainly using the prison layout.”

Frank leant forward. Ray decided to see that as Frank being interested in what he had to say.

“Uh huh,” Gerard murmured.

Mikey tilted his head and furrowed his brows.

“It was Mikey’s comment that got me thinking – remember he said about none of us really ought to be in the State Penitentiary. Well, what if the quest we set ourselves was to find our way out of here.”

“Kind of frustrating, don’t you think?”

“No, wait a second, Mikey. Don’t dismiss the idea yet. I…I…I”

Ray was becoming more flustered than he should. Was he seriously trying to impress Mikey Way? Whatever. He wasn’t going to manage that unless he could lay his ideas out clearly. Ray implored Mikey to let him have another shot.

“Go on then.” Mikey gestured for Ray to continue.

“We would be doing this for real - not a game. How could we stage a, you know…bid for freedom?”

“Ok. That’s reassuring, glad to see you’re still our eternal optimist.” The derision was dripping from Mikey’s voice. “Is there more to come?”

“Yes – that’s where the comic bit comes in.” Ray looked at Gerard. “I might need a little bit of help from you on this; maybe help me fill in the details because I’m a bit hazy on them.”

“No problem,” Gerard agreed, by the expression on his face, clearly puzzled at what Ray could need him to elucidate on when it was Ray’s idea.

“You were talking a while ago about one of your favorite author’s – can’t remember the guy’s name, but I think you said one of his books was about to be cancelled and…”

Recognition spread over Gerard’s face, quickly followed by amusement, followed equally rapidly by another emotion Ray couldn’t place.

“You’re talking about Grant Morrison and ‘The Invisibles’?”

“That rings a bell. It didn’t get pulled in the end, did it?”

“No, it didn’t. Hold up a moment Ray; I think I see where you’re going with this. Can I?” Gerard indicated that he wanted to take up the explanation from there.

“Be my guest.”

“Mikey, do you remember this?”

Mikey shook his head.

“Ray was right. The publisher was going to cancel Grant’s own work a rather ‘out there’ series called The Invisibles. Grant is one of the greats in Comic history because he’s always looking for ways to push boundaries…”

“Get to the point, Gee! We don’t need the full Morrison history, even though I know you’ll know almost everything there is to know about the guy. But this is about how it helps us,” an irked Mikey said.

“Just putting things in perspective, baby bro! Now, the other thing you have to know about Grant is at that time he was a practitioner of something called chaos magic, involving the creation of these symbols, sigils, that were made out of letters from a phrase of something you wanted. Ok, so the part that seems batshit crazy was what he did – and I’m guessing Ray sort of wants us to follow Grant’s example. A sigil needs to be charged up to work. Grant advocated doing that through visualising the sigil at the point of orgasm. He put out a plea to all his fans to beat off at some point during a specific day focusing on Grant’s sigil at the point of orgasm to increase the comic’s sales.”

“You are shitting me, right? Ray, please tell me my brother has got the wrong end of the stick, and you’re not suggesting that we sit in some kind of circle and beat off to some weird-ass symbol thing? I am not watching him jerk off, or you, and certainly not Frank.”

“I don’t know, Mikey,” Frank’s face lit up at the idea, “I think it would be a far more interesting way to test out some bizarre comic book dude’s theory on the ‘universe provides’ bullshit. Not like none of us ever jerk off, is it?”

“That part was exactly my point, Frank.” Ray hadn’t expected his first ally to be Frank, but he would take what he would get. “Before anyone says anything, I’m not trying to fulfil any voyeuristic kinks, more, well, trying to preserve my sanity. Frank doesn’t even bother to cover up when he’s at it, and one of you two is crap at stifling those little moans.”

“Hypothetically then, how do you practically see this working?”

Ray was thankful he had had the extra time to plan.

“I was thinking that we agree on a phrase, one of us designs the sigil. I was kind of hoping Gerard that you would do the honours. You understand this better than any of us, and you’re the one that likes drawing. I don’t want us to sit in some stupid Kumbayah circle. That could give the game away. No, I was thinking if we each had a copy, we could lie in our bunks and do it at an agreed time – maybe not late at night, but at a time when there’s some other noise around us. Then the D&D piece would be us doing something about it because I think, if I’m right, you also have to do something towards whatever it is you want. You can’t just sit back, do nothing and have what you want just fall into your lap. I got that correct, didn’t I?”

“You did, Ray. It is far-fetched but honestly, come on Mikes; we’ve heard each other for years and walked on each other growing up, our Frankie’s a little exhibitionist, aren’t you sugar, and well, I’m prepared to deal with Ray.”

“Ok, ok, ok. I get when I’m outnumbered. I have one stipulation. I don’t want to know what or who anyone is thinking about – keep that shit to yourselves. Deal?”

“Fantastic. Over the next couple of days, let’s work the details out of what phrase we want to use. Then we need to plan the quest out so that if anyone else, inmate or CO, pokes their nose in it looks like we're a bunch of nerds playing an innocent round of an RPG to while away the hours, and not scoping out the potential routes for you know what. 

Ray felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. He sank back onto his bunk and let out a deep sigh. That had gone far better than he had expected. Now all they had to do was orchestrate a magical prison break. Nothing difficult about that at all.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
One week later, they had all chosen to stay in their cell in the afternoon. It wasn’t that unusual if the weather was shitty for those who hated physical activity to chose to stay in their cells rather than hit the gym for their recreational time. It was even less suspicious that these four had chosen to do so. Despite their supposed crimes, it wasn’t as if Frank, Gerard and Mikey were the hardest or scariest dudes, and Ray, well Ray was so soft and squishy he would have made the perfect target if left all by himself.

They had made use of time apart at their various jobs across the prison compound to look for ways out, where the cameras were, where the guards patrolled, were there any blind spots, did the perimeter have any weaknesses. Nothing concrete had leapt out at them, but it was early days, and they had amassed some useful information.

It had taken some work, more than Ray had anticipated getting agreement on a phrase. Gerard had pointed out that for the magic to work, their need had to be clearly articulated, but not tie it down to an exact how things were supposed to happen. The Universe it seemed didn’t like being told what to do; it wanted some creative licence in the fulfilment of people’s desire. Good thing too really, seeing as other than getting the hell out of prison none of them had a clear ‘how to’.

Frank advised that they also make sure that whatever they came up with carried the intention of lasting freedom, so there was no out of the frying pan and into the fire issues with finding freedom and being re-captured or simply being transferred to another institution. Gerard picked up on Frank’s point and proposed that as what they ultimately wanted was a big ask, that they split it up into smaller goals which all rolled up into the main goal of 'get out and stay out'.

Finally, though they landed on several phrases that were like steps in the process that all four agreed hit the spot. Gerard then set about designing the sigils and creating four copies of them.

The time had come to activate them. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea. Now it felt stupid. Ray lay there on his back with the collection of symbols Gerard had drawn on one page taped to the slats of Frank’s bunk. How the hell were they going to start this? Even though the others were all about to do the same thing, Ray felt embarrassed, as though three pairs of eyes were boring down on him, shaming him for the act he was about to commit. What he was doing was totally natural. He’d been knowingly doing it since he was 12 for pity’s sake. He wished one of the others would start. He slipped his hand down over his crotch, cupping it. That was a start. Ray stayed like that for a couple of minutes, the feeling of his balls and still soft cock in his hands was comforting, even over the jumpsuit.

“Nghhh. Oh…Oh…” The bunk above Ray began to creak as Frank shifted.

Thank god for Frank’s couldn’t give a fuck attitude!

Ray slid his hand inside his oranges and prison-issue boxers. He let his mind wander. Long, wavy brown hair, sparkling green eyes, the swell of breasts, the soft dip at the waist and then the curve of hips. That was better. His cock had begun to pay attention. Ray started to stroke himself lazily. This wasn’t a race. They didn’t need to all orgasm at the same time to activate these things, or at least that is what Gerard had claimed.

Now he could hear mumblings from across the cell. The frames of both bunks were creaking. Knowing that they were all doing the same thing had perhaps loosened inhibitions, and the Way brothers had both decided simply to go for it.

Ray had never thought much about whether he had any voyeuristic tendencies. At high school, he had pretty much avoided being in the same place anyone else was doing more than necking. College parties had been the same. He had told himself many a time that porn was different - it was made to be watched. Now, as he tried to pick out whose barely stifled moans were whose, he had to wonder if that was a ‘thing’ for him. His dick certainly thought so. It was now fully erect and beginning to leak. Ray collected some of the beads of precum and slicked his length with them.

“G…G…fuck…mmmm” Frank wasn’t sticking to the rules. No prizes for guessing who he was thinking of with his hand curled around his cock.

“Shit…shit…shit…oh, gooooooooddddddd…..”

That moan hit Ray like a thunderbolt. He sped up the flick of his writs, willing himself forward, sliding his other hand down to fondle his balls, squeezing them, caressing them and totally not focusing on the change of image in his head. Sandy hair, razor-like jawline, broad shoulders, flat chest, slim straight hips and skinny legs with knees that turned inwards slightly. It took every ounce of Ray’s self-control not to follow Frank’s lead and blurt out the name of the man now fuelling his lust rather than some nameless female form.

Then there was a mumbled drawn out, ‘mothhherrrfuckker’ followed by the panting of a man trying to collect himself after jerking off.

Ray gave up on pretending that this wasn’t doing anything for him. He schooled himself to keep his eyes open and focused on the shoal of sigils in front of him as he felt his balls start to draw up, felt his breathing become more erratic, his hips automatically arch of the mattress, and realised that he was biting down so hard on his lips to keep from crying out that he swore he could taste copper. Soon enough ropes of a familiar warm white liquid were streaming out over his hand.

They had done it. They had charged their freedom sigils.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“It can’t do any harm, can it? Is it like prayer - you know where you just keep repeating the prayer until you get what you want? That’s what my Gran did. If she really wanted God to do something for her, she just kept getting on her knees…”

“You can get on your knees and pray to me anytime you want, Frankie,” Gerard said with a wink and a cock of his hip.

“Any sensible answers, Gerard?” Ray still deferred to Gerard as the fount of all knowledge for anything sigil related, even though how they were using them was his idea.

“Not a chance if he’s in that kind of mood,” Mikey scoffed, adjusting his beanie against the nip in the prison yard air. “I’m going to be man enough to admit I was wrong. I’m also going to go out on a limb and agree with Frank about a repeat. It really wasn’t that bad; in fact, I found it easier to relax into it, not worrying about who might hear. Was it like that for anyone else?”

“Yeah. Awkward as fuck at first, but then I got over myself and...um...sort of stopped thinking about my surroundings and er...kind of went there.”

“So,” Frank tried to drag them back to his original question, “are we doing a joint jack-off session over the thingies again, or not?”

“I’m down with that, sigils or no sigils. But I guess…” Ray shrugged not knowing how to finish his sentence.

Gerard stubbed out his cigarette. “Alright, gentlemen, same day next week. I think if this is going to be a regular thing, we should change the time to after lights out. More than half the goddamn prison is fucking or beating off then. The only unusual thing will be that the four of us in the one cell will be going solo at the same time. I honestly don’t think anyone’s going to give a shit.”

The next two sessions went as per Mikey’s rules. Not even Frank blurted out who he was picturing touching him. But, by the fourth session, things were starting to go wrong or right, depending on your perspective.

The last couple of times Ray had touched himself, he had done away with the pretence that the person he was fantasizing over was none other than Mikey Way. In fact, the previous time, he had imagined what Mikey’s cock would look and taste like, how it would feel in his hand and in his mouth. Ray had visualised how he would open his throat, taking the whole of Mikey’s length into his mouth. Ray had cum panting and cursing to the idea of getting Mikey to shoot his load straight down his throat. That image was hastily overlaid at exactly the right moment with the freedom sigils.

This time, he was picturing sucking, licking, biting, pulling, pinching and rolling Mikey’s nipples between his fingers. This was not going to be a quick half-hearted effort. No, he was going to lavish several minutes of attention on them before sinking lower, digging his fingertips into what flesh covered Mikey’s hip bones. He would hold Mikey in place so tight that he would leave bruises. That was when the real fun was going to start. He would dip his head further down, licking a sloppy line across Mikey’s hole as he started to open him up until he was begging Ray to fill him up and pound into his ass.

Ray was startled back into the reality of being in a cell with the object of his desire and two other men when Frankie let out a whorish moan.

“That’s right, baby boy,” Gerard’s voice sounded out across the cell in reply. “You imagining all the filthy things I told you I’m gonna do with you?”

The wanton mewls from above him probably shouldn’t have, but they went straight to Ray’s cock. In his mind, he decided to believe that they had escaped Mikey’s lips.

Gerard kept up a stream of dirty talk aimed at Frank, who was sounding increasingly desperate as the bunk’s frame creaked under Frank’s writhing and straining to get off.

“Such a good boy, Frankie. If you cum for Daddy, I’ll give you everything I promised in that little spot by the dryers in the laundry that the cameras can’t see.”

“Y...y...yesssssss Daaadddyyyy!” Frank stammered tipping over the edge at Gerard’s command.

It was too much for Ray to take. Soon he was spilling out onto his belly. Unfortunately Frank and Gerard’s little show had excited Ray so much that he too forgot the rules. A ragged ‘Mikey’ tumbled out of his mouth as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One week later, things had progressed. They knew far more about the layout of the prison, the CO’s shifts, deliveries into and pick-ups from the prison. They even knew which areas of the fencing were weakest and the one or two places on the perimeter that were the most lightly monitored. However, no real plans seemed to be coming together. 

On the personal front, things had progressed too. Frank and Gerard had become more obvious about their relationship, despite Frank still denying that they were exclusive partners, and the beginnings of something, possibly a relationship, was blossoming between Ray and Mikey.

Now Mikey and Frank were squirrelled away in a quiet corner of the dining hall. Gerard and Ray were sitting together at a table. While Ray had decided the candy that he had ‘procured’ was enough of a food source for the day, Gerard was prodding at the food on his tray trying to determine whether it was edible.

“Don’t you think that’s strange?” Ray gestured towards Mikey and Frank.

Gerard didn’t bother looking to where Ray was pointing. “They’re both strange, Sunshine. You not gathered that in what – 6 months?

Ray snickered. “Not them individually. I meant isn’t it odd that they’re talking in secret – they never do that.”

“Oh.” Gerard was now creating patterns in what had been designated as mashed potatoes, but most likely had never been anywhere near a potato. “Probably plotting something.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Gerard cackled, looking at Ray as if he was an imbecile. “I own Frank’s ass, and my baby brother wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. So, no – not bothered. Why? Are you?

Ray didn’t want to put a name to what was wrong.

Gerard’s face lit up in response to Ray’s inner struggle, which he had failed to mask adequately.

“You’re jealous! Oh, Ray, that’s adorable. Now, forget them – nothing to get yourself worked up about. Listen to this.”

Goddamn Gerard Way! How had the fucker picked it? Ray was so smitten with Mikey that he couldn’t stand to see him with anyone else, except possibly Gerard because obviously, he would spend time with his older brother. Ray was so preoccupied with coming to terms with his growing affection for Mikey that he hardly paid Gerard any attention. Later he recollected hearing something about things starting to align, friends outside, lawyers, appeals and maybe needing to up the ante on something or other, but no idea as to how it all fitted together or what Gerard was getting at.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Hey pansies,” Beckett hollered from the cell opposite them, “Isn’t tonight the night for your pathetic excuse for a gang’s satanic ritual? I was kinda hoping to bang Saporta without anyone else hearing – ya know ‘cause that little exhibitionist you got in there is loud enough to keep the whole fucking wing awake – ‘ooh yes Dadddyyyy, please Daddy,’” he mimicked Frank’s moans.

“I’ll give you a motherfucking show alright. Hope you don’t like your face that way because I’m gonna give everyone a demonstration in how to permanently fuck it up good and proper next time I see you,” Frank shouted back.

“Come on, Frank. That’s not going to do you any good. How about we do as the man says and you give the pervert something to listen to while he fucks, eh?”

Ray was shocked. Not at Frank’s posturing, but that the call for Frank to calm down had come from Mikey, not Gerard.

Frank huffed. “What if I don’t wanna?”

It was the voice of a petulant child, not a man who had been dubbed the “Newark Joker” for his trademark act of slashing the corners of his victim’s mouth, leaving a scar reminiscent of the comic book Joker.

“Frank, behave!”

If he were honest with himself, Ray would have stopped whatever he was doing and dropped to his knees before Gerard with that tone of voice.

Frank, however, remained defiant, muttering “I’m still going to get that dickwad back for that” quietly enough that only Ray could hear him.

Frank was a grown up. He could make his own decisions, even if they were stupid. So, Ray pretended that he hadn’t heard. What he did hear was Mikey or Gerard getting off their bunk and someone padding across the small width between the two sets of bunks and then hefting themselves up onto the top bunk with Frank. Judging by the length of legs swinging over the edge of Frank’s bunk, it was Mikey. Ray had to stop himself from reaching out and touching him.

There were a few minutes of hushed conversation, that Ray couldn’t hear, punctuated by the occasional thump on the mattress, no doubt Frank still having his hissy fit at being called out for his Daddy Kink, until…

“No – Frank – no. Remember what happened last time? My brother is not exactly one to ‘kiss it better’ is he? Just act like any normal twenty-something man, will you, please?”

“Ok, you win, MikeyWay. Be safe!” With that Frank climbed down and skipped – yes skipped – across to Gerard.

The next thing Ray knew, Mikey was looking at him from over the edge.

“Am I coming down there, or are you coming up here?”

Ray looked at Mikey like a dog at a new bowl, not quite grasping Mikey’s meaning.

“Wanna screw around in Frank’s bunk? Make up for all the vile things I reckon he’s done in mine? Or is that too evil for your lofty principles, Sunshine?”

“Ughhh. Get that ass down here then. I’m so not doing anything that’ll encourage the tiny firebrand to seek revenge on me.”

Mikey didn’t need a second invitation.

“This is what you and Frank were planning, wasn’t it?” Ray asked as Mikey slipped onto the bed beside him.

“Huh, um, you noticed that then? Yeah, it was all going to plan, until Beckett stuck his oar in. I’d encourage Frank to do something, but…”

“If he gets himself in solitary, or worse, then that could screw up our little experiment!”

“Exactly. Now about that experiment.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Mikey had attached his lips to Ray’s.

Ray pushed back into the kiss, forcing Mikey’s mouth open with his tongue, then initiated frenzied open-mouthed kisses.

In the background, Ray was vaguely aware of the exaggeratedly loud stream of filth spewing from Gerard’s mouth and the equally over the top porn-star worthy sounds coming from Frank. Ray wasn’t really one for competition. He knew what he was capable of in most areas of life and focused more on improving himself (aka not getting caught next time) rather than try to outdo anyone else. However, Beckett was a total asshat who needed putting in his place. If he could do that in a way that was fun for him and avoided anyone getting into trouble with the COs, then Ray wasn’t above seeing if he could make Mikey scream out more than Frank.

Ray laced one hand into Mikey’s hair grabbing hold of it and holding him still with the other hand which he had placed on Mikey’s hip. Ray’s tongue danced in and out of Mikey’s mouth, exploring every corner, swiping across the teeth, and licking lines from his ear lobe all the way along the stubbly jawline.

Soon, Ray could feel Mikey start to melt into his side, pliant and willing. Ray let go of Mikey’s hair and began nipping at the crook of his neck, while his free hand traced its way down to Mikey’s nipple. Now he got to roll it between his fingers; he could pull it, he could teasingly run the very tips of his finger over it. He was rewarded with a needy whimper as Mikey ground against his thigh.

Ray squeezed Mikey’s hip hard.

“Uh, uh, uh. No grinding. Keep still. I’m gonna make you feel so good you’re gonna scream for me,” Ray murmured into Mikey’s ear.

Mikey stilled instantly.

Ray released his grip on Mikey’s hip, still playing with his nipples with the other hand. He slid the hand he just freed up over Mikey’s pelvis to cup the bulge in his oranges. Ray gave him a warning look, daring Mikey to disobey him. Mikey whined at Ray’s touch, yet obediently refrained from bucking up into it like Ray saw that he wanted to.

Ray untied the knotted sleeves from around Mikey’s waist. He maintained eye contact while he slipped a hand inside the jumpsuit and under the waistband of Mikey’s underwear.

Hand in place on Mikey's dick, Ray broke the gaze. He dipped his head to begin kissing, licking, nuzzling and biting Mikey’s sensitive spot at the crook of his neck.

Mikey was fighting to stop any sounds escaping his mouth, but he couldn’t do that and stay still. It was too much self-control that he didn’t have at that moment. Mikey arched up into Ray’s hand, which was still only cupping him, willing Ray to move and give him something more.

“I said ‘No’, Mikey’” Ray hissed, withdrawing his hands and lips until Mikey stilled again.

Ray worked a hand down into his own boxers. He almost groaned in relief at the touch, knowing exactly how Mikey felt. He was already rock-hard, and there was a damp patch on his boxers.

Ray felt the slick of precum beading on Mikey’s dick. Using one calloused finger, Ray rubbed delicately over the sensitive head and along the shaft, to help ease the slip of his hand as he started to stroke. 

Ray matched the speed and pressure he was using on Mikey on himself, keeping them matched while he clamped his mouth around one of Mikey’s over sensitised nipple. Soon Ray was pumping the pair faster and faster, two pairs of hips jerking together.

Then Ray lowered his hand to massage Mikey’s balls, stretching one finger behind them to apply pressure on his perineum. Soon Mikey was writhing next to him, dripping sweat, trying hard to catch his breath in between strings of cursing and mewling while Ray massaged his prostate from the outside.

Ray couldn’t believe how beautiful the sounds Mikey was making were. Each and every one went straight to his dick. His own breathing was becoming laboured. With each flick of his wrist and each noise from Mikey, Ray could feel his balls begin to draw up; the urge to shoot his load was snowballing. He was not going to last much longer unless he slowed his pace. Ray paused to squeeze the base of his cock, pulling him away from the brink. He had more of his plan to give Beckett payback left to execute.

Ray started to tell Mikey of all the things he wants to do to him when, not if, they get out. He spelt out all the places in private and in public that he wants to bend Mikey over and fuck the life out of him. He explained how he was going to edge him with his hand, with his tongue, with toys, until Mikey would quit begging to cum because he had become so turned on that he could hardly form sounds let alone words.

Mikey began to shudder. 

The way that Mikey was reacting to the thoughts of the two of them together doing all the things Ray had just laid out aroused Ray even more. Ray knew that in a few seconds, both of his hands were going to be covered in streams of white sticky cum. 

“The sigils, Mikey, the sigils, or all these things stay as fantasy,” Ray reminded Mikey, and himself, of the importance of holding those images at the point of release. Then he drops the bomb. “I know you can make Frank sound like a whiny, pathetic little virgin. You know you’re way hotter than your brother’s little twink. Cum for me, Mikey.”

With that, Ray began to change the rhythm that he had been using to stroke Mikey, helping him to chase down his orgasm. To Ray’s delight, he heard a hoarse chant of “Ray, Ray, Ray” building up to a crescendo - until there was one final ecstatic sounding scream of ‘Rrrrraaaayyyyy’, that could have woken the dead.

Ray kept pumping every last drop from a twitching Mikey while he drove himself over the edge. To his surprise, he couldn't keep his lips between his teeth, and he cursed far louder than he would have liked as he spurted out ropes of cum onto his stomach.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
That kind of set the tone for weekly sessions. They were no longer solo affairs. Ray didn’t mind that one little bit. Come on, his own hand versus having Mikey’s hands and mouth on him, it wasn’t even a fair comparison. One he was getting used to until a month later.

“Way and…” the CO looked down at the piece of paper in his hands, “er...Way” he said with a surprised tone then returned to the more normal emotionless one, “Apparently your lawyer’s here with news on your appeal.”

Gerard and Mikey exchanged a look born out of brotherly telepathy. A look totally unreadable to anyone without Way genes.

Mikey jumped down off his bunk, untying the sleeves of his oranges from around his waist and shrugging his shoulders back into them before zipping up.

Gerard followed suit, stowing the piece of paper he had been doodling on under the blanket on the end of his bunk.

“Don’t fucking touch it, Frank. I’ll know if you do. I always do, and you know what happens then?”

Frank just grinned at him.

Ray knew there was no way that Frank wasn’t going to look at Gerard’s drawing. Gerard knew Frank was going to go looking. Heck, even Mikey knew Frank would look. Unfortunately, Mikey and Ray also knew what would happen too, hopefully in the shower block, not the cell. The mutual hand-jobs in their bunks was one thing – not something Mikey and Ray had the right to comment on, given they did the same – but the more dominant elements of Gerard’s attitude towards Frank’s and his relationship were not something either of the other two wanted to hear or see.

“Shut it, Way.” The other guard snapped. “Hands.”

One at a time, Mikey and Gerard stepped to the opening in the cell door and let the guards cuff them before making their way out of the block sandwiched between the COs.

“Strange, Gee didn’t say anything about expecting his lawyer.”

“Does he tell you everything, Frank?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I mean it’s not like this ridiculous appeal of theirs is a secret to anyone, is it?”

Ray knew it was pointless arguing with Frank, so he simply agreed.

“No, it’s not. But I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend so, you know, I doubted there’d be much pillow talk afterwards.”

A badly aimed pillow found its way down from the bunk above him, not even coming close to hitting Ray.

“Too bad, pipsqueak! You missed.”

Suddenly Frank’s face appeared upside down in the middle of the bunk.

“You don’t think this could...I mean...we didn’t specify…”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out if and when they come back.”

Frank shifted position; Ray could hear the squeak of the metal above him.

“Did...did...you recognise either of those guards? I don’t think I ever…”

“Shit! Didn’t really pay that much attention after they said ‘Way’, sorry.”

Gerard and Mikey didn’t come back.

Ray was puzzled. This wasn’t exactly what he had expected. There was a slight possibility that their magic had worked, for Mikey and Gerard at least. He didn’t say anything to Frank. He had been waiting for one of them to come up with a Hollywood movie worthy escape plan. A plan using laundry baskets or he’d even go with a plan for digging tunnels and crawling through sewers and then giving the bloodhounds the slip by wading through rivers, discarding clothing to create false trails then doubling back, buying fake IDs and moving out of state, maybe even out of the country. What he had not expected was for two of them to be walked straight out the prison gates by two fake COs.

Damnit. What about him and Frank? Didn’t they get their shot at freedom?

Ray didn’t want to share his next thought with Frank. He knew that despite the tough-guy punk attitude, he was head-over-heels in love with Gerard. What if the Ways had orchestrated their own escape, leaving him and Frank to rot away and answer all manner of questions about what they knew of their flight? That made Gerard one hell of a shitty boyfriend!

Needless to say, Ray couldn’t shut his brain down all night. It kept on firing with both the positive and the negative scenarios about what had just happened. His heart told him to cling to the possibility that his turn was coming, but his head told him otherwise. In his bummed-out mood, he had even turned Frank down on one last jerk-off circle on the freedom sigil. He was so fraught with the myriad of possibilities that he doubted he’d get it up, even with Frank’s offer of acquiring some illicit porn from another inmate to help get things started.

Funnily enough, Frank didn’t seem up for it himself. He kept looking at the empty lower bunk across from him. Ray suspected that the last drawing Gerard had done was now tucked away somewhere in Frank’s contraband stash, even if he hadn’t actually seen him pilfer it. Yeah, the kid was smitten big time.

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The next morning at breakfast, a CO that Ray didn’t recognise approached the table where he and Frank were sitting.

“Ia..Iee...Iro?”

“Iero,” Frank stated irritably.

“Good. That’s you, right, no. 3547?”

Frank nodded.

“Warden McCracken wants to see you right away. Come on!”

Frank turned around, lifting both legs over the bench at the same time. Then he stood up his back to the guard and offered his hands to the outstretched cuffs in resignation.

Ray offered him a sympathetic shrug. Most people on their block, inmates and guards alike, knew about Frank and Gerard’s trysts in the shower block and the laundry room. It was no surprise that Frank was the first one to be pulled in for interrogation. Well, Ray assumed that was what going on. There was no other logical explanation, was there? Even if Mikey and Gerard hadn’t made it and were now locked away in solitary, the authorities would still investigate how they got as far as getting accomplices posing as COs to escort them out of their cell.

Ray spent the rest of the morning fretting, waiting for his turn to come. How much was Frank going to squeal? He had heard rumours that McCracken liked to use some unorthodox methods. Nothing substantiated of course, but Ray was a firm believer that there was no smoke without fire. If Frank said anything about their attempts to use magic, then he was going to be locked away in solitary too. It was only a matter of time before it was his turn to answer questions.

Ray started to ask around, subtly of course, about the solitary wing. How many cells did they have? What had people heard about who was in there and for how long? Unfortunately for Ray, he had only asked two people those question, but they had both given him enough information to assure him that even if there were others, and it sounded like there were, in solitary, there was still enough room for all four of them. Fuck. The only crack of light at the end of this tunnel was that neither inmate mentioned Gerard, Mikey or Frank.

The waiting was excruciating. This wasn’t the kind of thrill Ray has been looking for. The dread that he had felt when he saw the flashing lights outside his apartment the day that he’d been arrested replaced the bubbling excitement of testing magical theories and dreams of the outside world.

By mid-afternoon, Ray was perplexed about what was happening when Frank still hadn’t reappeared, but no-one official had approached him to go anywhere with them. A few rumours had started about the ever-decreasing number of inmates in Ray’s cell. If he had been of a more violent persuasion, Ray might have been flattered at the direction in which most of the rumours were headed. The rumours mostly suggested that Ray had threatened or hurt Frank and that Gerard and Mikey had been moved before things escalated between Frank’s boyfriend and Frank’s abuser. It was ludicrous of course, but it wouldn’t do Ray’s reputation any harm if other people thought he was harder than he actually was. The other rumour circulating was that the Way’s had been separated and transferred out to other penitentiaries after their failed appeal and that Frank had gone nuts after hearing about Gerard’s transfer and so had been transferred to the infirmary. This one was not so far-fetched. Ray had not considered the possibility that Mikey and Gerard would be transferred out. The bit about Frank though, that didn’t make any sense unless it was a pre-emptive action. Yeah, the kid looked down in the dumps about losing his fuckbuddy that he so did not have feelings for. However, he had shown no signs of losing his shit over it, not yet anyway.

The appearance of these rumours comforted Ray that so far, no-one was mentioning attempted or successful escapes. It would be hard to keep something like that totally secret in a place like this, no matter how hard McCracken and his team would try and try they would otherwise all hell would break loose. If there were no talk of escapes, then hopefully he would avoid an interrogation by the warden and his lackeys.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Rise and shine Toro! Hey Toro, WAKE UP!”

Ray was rudely awoken from a fitful sleep by the sound of something clanking against the bars of the cell door. As he opened bleary eyes, he became aware of the voice stage-whispering at him. He was about to pass it off as a figment of his imagination, wishful thinking, and settle back down to try and sleep when the voice started again.

“Get the fuck up, Sunshine!”

Sunshine! No CO ever called him ‘Sunshine’. Could it be? Was this it? Ray rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stretched hearing a satisfying crack in his back and shoved back his blanket.

Another clank against the bars.

“We don’t have all night, Toro! Get a move on.”

Ok even in the half-light of the block’s lighting, Ray thought he recognised the face peering through the bars. If the hair was a tad longer and more unkempt and the guy had facial hair, Ray would swear that the bear of a prison guard standing at his cell door was his old friend Bob Bryar. That was ridiculous. Heh, isn’t everyone supposed to have at least one doppelganger out there? Maybe this was Bob’s?

“Finally. Right. We’re moving you to a cell on another Block. Can’t have you taking up a cell for four all by yourself now, can we?”

But this sounded just like Bob. The inability to hide the sarcasm too realistic for it not to be Bob. Ray fought to keep the biggest cheesiest grin he had ever smiled off his face. Not now. For now, he had to play along, pretend he didn’t recognise his friend and not arouse the suspicions of anyone still awake or woken up by Bob’s shenanigans.

Silently he allowed Bob to handcuff him and frogmarch him down the corridors until they reached the next security gates. Bob waved his paperwork at the guard operating the door, and it slid open.

Ray fell out of step with Bob. His brain was fizzing with the prospect that the sigil had worked; he wanted to stop and drink in the moment.

“Stop dawdling and keep up, will you!” Bob snarled.

Ray couldn’t help considering the fact that in another life, Bob would make a scary correctional officer. In this place, he would fit right in with Allman and Quinn as one of McCracken’s henchmen - if, like Ray, you subscribed to the idea that the prison warden was a crooked, sadistic man, probably with links to organisations you would rather not know about.

The process of seamlessly passing through security checkpoints continued until they reached the final one. Bob slid something across the counter to a guy who looked eerily like the one that had collected Frank earlier that day, yesterday morning, Ray was fucked if he knew what time it was. The guy shuffled off, the piece of paper Bob had given him in hand. He returned a few minutes later with Ray’s worldly possessions and a wink.

“Fucking hell, Trohman! Don’t screw this up now,” Bob hissed.

Shit. This was real! He was almost out. Hell Yeah!

“And you, Toro, keep your shit together. Cameras are still on visual.”

Ray gave Bob the filthiest glare he could muster like any inmate would when a CO insulted them.

“Better. Last hurdle. OK?”

Bob set off at a pace that might have been a little fast if you were looking for someone sneaking a prisoner out of the penitentiary, but it could also be interpreted as a prison guard wanting this shit over and done with so he could loaf around for the final period of the graveyard shift.

Ray stumbled a little as he tried to keep pace. He liked to think it added another level of realism to the piece, the poor reluctant prisoner being dragged along by the cruel guard. How in the hell did Bob keep up this kind of pace? They were about the same height. Ok, so Bob worked out, loved his running and his metabolic conditioning circuits, whatever they were - Ray didn’t. That would explain it.

An interminable walk later, they exited the gate to the outside. Right there was an unmarked black van. As Bob and Ray approached, Ray could see that the van door was already open, waiting for them to get in. Bob shoved Ray inside, then clambered up after him. Almost before Bob had had a chance to close the door, the van lurched forward, driving Ray to freedom.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They’d been driving for over two hours when the van veered to the right, stopped for a few seconds then made a left turn. From what Ray could tell stuck sitting on the floor in the back, their freeway journey had ended, for now at least, as the van trundled rather than sped along.

Bob hadn’t spoken the whole time. Ray knew better than to start running his mouth or worse gush over Bob when Bob wasn’t in a communicative mood. Besides Bob had fished his phone out of a bag once they’d left the NJ State Prison in Trenton and had his eyes glued to the screen ever since. The one friendly thing he had done was undo Ray’s cuffs.

So, Ray sat in silence hugging his few worldly possessions to himself, marvelling that the freedom sigil had worked for him. He badly wanted to get out of the godforsaken orange jumpsuit and put on some proper clothing, like jeans, band shirts and flannels. But that wasn’t what his package contained; no that package held the suit and tie that his excuse for a lawyer said he had to wear for his trial. Much good that did him! However, unless Bob, or whoever was driving, had a stash of spare clothes in one of the bags scattered over the van floor, Ray was going to have to wait until he could get hold of some.

One question still puzzled Ray in all of this. He had anticipated that Bob would tell him everything as soon as they made their getaway and explain the thought that was gnawing away at Ray’s brain, what had happened to Gerard, Mikey and Frank. Was this all some big, elaborate plan? Had any of the others made it out? He was certain that the Trohman guy was the one who had taken Frank. If not, why would he wink at Ray and why would Bob shout at him like he was in on it? That was a straw to clutch at that Frank was ok. But what about his Mikey and Frank’s Gerard. Was that most plausible of rumours about the other three’s removal from their cell, right?

Hold on a second - his Mikey? His Mikey? When did Mikey become ‘his’? As much as he liked to think that there had been the start of something, it had never progressed much beyond a few handjobs or blowjobs and some dirty talk to get Mikey screaming as loud as Frank to piss Beckett off during their sigil charging rituals. Oh well, he’d deal with that bridge if he ever came to it and he might never, so why dwell on it.

Eventually, Ray couldn’t stand not knowing anymore.

“Hey, Bob...um...er thanks for this. I really appreciate you busting me out and all, but could you give me a clue as to where we’re going and what next?”

Bob looked up from his phone.

“No can do, my friend. The less you know, the better. Just in case...we don’t...uh...make our destination. Shouldn’t be too long now.”

“So, I suppose a change of clothes is out of the question too? Apart from the suit, I mean.” Ray already knew the answer, but he looked at his friend pleadingly in the vain hope he could change Bob’s mind.

“Don’t try puppy dog eyes on me. You know that shit doesn’t work on me, even from the hottest of chicks.”

Ray sighed. He settled for running a hand through his hair, teasing out some of the knots that loved to hide in amongst the curls. Bob’s logic made sense. It sucked that no-one was telling him anything, but if something went wrong, then Ray couldn’t say anything other than that Bob had woken him up, walked him out of the prison into the van and voila. He would have nothing else to offer any interrogator. That was quite clever. Bob was not the sharpest tool in the box, therefore most certainly not the brains behind this prison-break. That was another thing for Ray to muse on - who was?

Bob may not have rated that high on an IQ test, but he was right about there not being much farther to go. Ray hardly had time to come up with a list of credible masterminds for the plan when the van stopped.

“Fuck! We made it!” Bob sounded relieved as he opened the van door and jumped down to the ground. “You institutionalized already? Come on, or are you staying in the van?”

Ray stared at his surroundings. This was indeed a far cry from the State Prison. He was in the middle of a forest; he could hear water burbling away in the background, birds chirping in the pleasant fresh smelling morning air.

Bob clapped an arm around Ray’s shoulder, guiding him towards the front of the van and the cabin in front of which it was parked.

“Wanna go meet the rest of the rescue team? Get some answers to your questions?”

Standing beside the van were two guys. One was the man Bob had called Trohman earlier. The other Ray was convinced he had never seen before. Ray was sure he would have remembered the ripped physique and almost Frank levels of ink he had going on. However, when the man spoke, Ray knew he had heard him before, but he couldn’t place where.

“Hi, Sunshine, good to finally meet you. Welcome to your totally cliche hideout in the woods! I’m Andy. Joe I think you’ve met before.”

Ray and Joe exchanged grins. Internally Ray was wondering about the significance of that nickname again. It wasn’t one Bob had ever called him before busting him out of his cell. The only people to refer to him that way - Ray of Sunshine - were Mikey, Gerard and Frank. There was a whole host of expectation riding on who might be inside the cabin.

“Expect you want to get out of those clothes. One of us,” Joe inclined his head towards Bob, “should have some spares that will fit you. Shall I lead the way.”

Joe spun on his heels and headed for the cabin’s front door, followed by Andy, and then Ray and Bob; Bob’s arm was still around Ray’s shoulder.

“Yo guys, lookie who we have here!” Joe yelled as he burst through the door, which opened directly into the living area.

“It appears,” Bob whispered in Ray’s ear as he let go of Ray’s shoulder and stepped away from his friend, “that the world is a whole heap smaller than you’d think.”

That was the extra little nudge Ray needed. He stepped through the doorway, confident about who he would see.

He had hardly set foot in the room before he was engulfed in a bear hug, which knocked not only the wind out of him but sent his personal possessions flying. He’d know those arms and skinny ribs anywhere.

“Hey, Mikes,” he said softly, returning the embrace.

“Hey, yourself, my Ray of Sunshine!” Mikey broke the hug. “You’d never have guessed it, but your friend Bob is good friends with two of our closest friends.”

“So...so...it worked...then?” Ray was somewhat in shock as he stood there with the man he had grown a little too fond of throughout their shared prison time. Across the room, both squeezed into one armchair beaming like idiots at him were Frank and Gerard.

“Yeah - you’re a wizard, Ray!”

“Ha, ha, ha. Funny Frank! Except I’m not a bespectacled 13-year-old.” Ray was genuinely pleased that Frank had not been on the receiving end of a McCracken interrogation.

Another new face appeared holding a crate of beer. He looked out of place, with his baby face, fedora and cardigan.

It was like vultures descending on a carcass as everyone in the room pounced on the crate as soon as it was open.

“So,” Mikey flopped down on a beaten up faux leather couch, motioning for Ray to sit beside him once he had his bottle, “who haven’t you been introduced to yet?”

Ray scanned the room. He didn’t know the baby face, or the guy with the black bangs hanging over one eye, who looked so suspiciously like he was wearing eyeliner and proud of it. Something Ray suspected Frank had been known to do on many an occasion before his incarceration.

Baby-face spared Ray the embarrassment of pointing him out.

“Me and Pete, I reckon. You have to have met Andy and Joe by now, seeing as they were part of the rescue party.”

“Not just mine, either; I’m figuring.” Everything had finally fallen into place for Ray. Joe had been involved in his and Frank’s escapes, and Andy had been one of the guards who collected Mikey and Gerard. “So yes, it’s just you and Pete that I don’t know.”

“I’m Patrick…”

“The brains of the organisation.” Black bangs guy, Pete, interrupted with a tooth-rotting besotted peek at Patrick.

“Is not!”

“Is too…”

“Children!” Gerard shouted, flicking at Frank’s head while shooting one of his infamous death stares at Pete. “Enough. Patrick and I came up with the outline together for how things could work using Brian as a messenger. As I was, shall we say, a little incapacitated Patrick did most of the heavy lifting to pull things together, but Brian ran through it with me whenever we met up.”

“So, yes they’re both pretty, and they’re both genii. Fucking hell! This isn’t bloody kindergarten - even if you two are short enough.”

Ray thought that Andy’s glare was nearly as scary as Gerard’s. It was a good effort, but not quite as convincing that the grim reaper was lurking in the shadows nearby.

“Pete, would you go fetch us in another couple of crates from the shed, angel?”

Ray could see straight through Patrick’s ruse. Get Pete out of the room and help diffuse the tension. If Pete was half as volatile and lacking in common sense as Frank, separating the two of them like naughty schoolboys was probably a good move. Things had a habit of escalating quickly out of nowhere with Frank.

Ray felt a twinge of disappointment that nothing properly magical had happened. That was soon replaced when he realised that he had got his Hollywood style escape, fully planned out to the last detail.

“Did you know?” he asked Mikey.

“Not much. I knew Gee was working on something, but it was better I knew nothing. Plausible deniability.”

“Yeah,” Ray giggled then took a big gulp of beer, “a lot of that going around at the moment. I do have a couple of questions, though?”

“Shoot,” Gerard and Patrick said in unison.

“It’s fantastic we’re out, and this place looks like it’s out of the way, but...well...I don’t mean to be rude...but what next? We can’t stay here, can we? They’ll be looking for us.”

Patrick doffed his hat to Gerard, silently indicating that Gerard should be the one to respond to Ray’s question.

Gerard nudged Frank until Frank relinquished his space on the chair, taking up Pete’s space in an undeniably childish and obvious attempt to annoy Pete when he returned with the beer. Then Gerard sat back properly in the armchair, steepling his fingers and looking for all the world like a mafia don.

Ray kept that observation to himself, just in case there was some shred of truth to it - they were part Italian-American and from Northern New Jersey after all.

“You’re right, Ray, we can’t stay here. Our wonderful friends from Chicago will clean up here then disappear back to Illinois like they were never in Jersey or Pennsylvania this past week. Bob will do whatever it is, Bob does.”

“Hey!” a disgruntled Bob grumbled in token protest.

Gerard ignored him and continued, “ McCracken won’t want to admit that he’s lost any prisoners and our lawyer, Brian, can help make sure things remain that way. However, in the event that someone from Trenton gets lippy about our disappearances, a search could be launched, so the four of us have to disappear. There are a few options, and I have several contacts in different places that can help make that happen.”

At that point, Pete returned, huffing and puffing with three crates of beer stacked one on top of another. The stack was so tall that Pete, being short, couldn’t see over the top, so he had to peer around the side to see where he was going. With a little bit of help from Andy, he set all three down in the centre of the room without any accidents.

“Perfect timing, Pete!” Gerard exclaimed. “We can start all the next phase discussions and planning tomorrow. Tonight, let’s just celebrate our success so far, and the first taste of freedom in way too many months.”

“I have a question.” Frank raised his hand. From the glint in his eye, the question was going to be half-witted, but nobody did anything to stop him. “So, given that this isn’t all over just yet, we can still carry on with our sex magic circle thingie, right? And seeing as the more, the merrier in terms of people focusing on the sigil - that’s right, isn’t it Gee?”

Gerard nodded warily.

“So, while all nine of us are still together, everyone should join in, don’t you think.”

The whole room responded as one - “No, Frank!”

Ray stood up. He had one swig of beer left in his bottle. That was enough.

“I know this is cheesy, but I thought 1) I’d take everyone’s mind of our voyeuristic and exhibitionist little friend’s suggestion, 2) I would sincerely like to thank Bob, Pete, Patrick, Andy and Joe for agreeing to risk themselves in this escapade, and 3) I would like to everyone to raise whatever’s left in the bottle,” Ray paused for dramatic effect, “To Freedom - long may it last!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed having Ray at the centre of this piece as much as I did!
> 
> As always thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome, they really help me to know what people like, what works, what doesn't and hopefully I become a better writer through them. :)


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